Of Bristles and Tresses
by Dudekmc123
Summary: "I'd rather pull pranks on Mr. Bitters, or do stunts on Swirly, than sit here and uselessly brush through your stupid hair all day." James just wants Carlos to shut up and groom him. Jarlos. One-shot. Slash!


_Hi there. I'm distracted, again, writing one-shots that randomly keep coming to mind which explains why this is here!_

_If I had to be honest, this idea stemmed from when I went to go get a hair-cut on New Year's Eve. I was sitting in the chair while the lady was cutting and, as you can guess, it all spiraled out from there. Though I really got motivated with the idea later at night, sitting around blogging (Yes, I own a tumblr)._

_Uhm, I kind of changed my writing style here? I feel like I did because I told myself to try and convey things in simple terms as opposed to trying to elaborate and use fancy words. I tend to repeat myself when I do that and use unnecessary words (or so my sister tells me) so I experimented here._

_Oh, yes, before I forget, **Warnings!** (Because I feel this is necessary): This story is James-centric, involves the kink of hair-pulling and a little married-couples type of spat between Kendall and Logan at the end!_ _Enjoy_!

**Of Bristles and Tresses**

James Diamond took grooming very seriously. He always had.

Ever since he was a young boy he'd been taught by his parents the perks of a well-presented, outwardly clean appearance. Recognition, respect, authority—of course, there were other benefits in that list he'd been spoken to about before, but little James hadn't a care for them with his short attention span. All he'd known was that when he dressed charmingly he got immeasurable amounts of attention from his peers, and he seemed to attract many pretty girls and boys. Those reasons had been enough of a motivation to his young mind to continue in maintaining pleasing external appearances.

That and James found he rather liked looking good. He took a sense of pride in it because it was something he found he could always do well without fail.

It was why he was very careful in maintaining the quality of designer's clothes, keeping his face clear from bruises or black eyes, and staying on schedule with his work-outs. Oh, but if there was one thing James Diamond was very careful about it was his hair. Because, he was pretty sure, that "the face" would not be the same without well-kempt silky locks. And his was _very_ well-kempt, thank you.

Sure, Kendall, Logan, and Carlos sometimes made fun of him for it, saying he cared for his hair as if it was a pet, but he knew they were probably just jealous. Not everyone was gifted with luscious locks and the perfect shade of caramel like he was. That's why he took advantage of it, making use of the finest hair care products and combing it to perfection.

Therefore, absolutely no one, and he meant _no one, _was ever allowed to come near to touching the top of his head. Ever. Except for his mother because she'd always brushed him before when he was a kid… and Carlos. Because… well, because he trusted him. That and the other boy was very handy with a hairbrush, he swears.

He'd discovered this back in the 5th grade one night when his mom was out on a business trip while he and Carlos were having a sleep over. He was settling into a steady sleep when it came to dawn on him that the opening night of the school play he was starring in was tomorrow, the thoughts of possibly screwing up in his lines and embarrassing himself becoming so frighteningly overwhelming that he began sobbing hysterically.

He'd never told anyone exactly, but he constantly doubted himself in childhood, dealing with low self-esteem and anxiety before a big event. Fortunately, his mother was usually there to help him deal with the stress, talking to him softly as she would soothe him in combing his shoulder-length hair. _Un_fortunately, she wasn't present that night making James even more anxious because now how was he supposed to calm down?

Carlos was there though and, as a good friend, offered to do anything he could to ease his friend's sudden panic, no questions asked. Without even thinking twice, James had handed him his favorite hairbrush and instructed him to brush. Carlos did.

And he'd done so ever since.

Which explains why he was where he was now, sitting criss cross on the floor of their living room in front of the orange couch, eyes bright as he watched the program up on the television, with Carlos situated on the couch behind him leisurely brushing through his smooth tresses.

"James, I really don't see what the point is here." He heard Carlos grumble from above as he brushed downwards at the back of his head. "You stopped with those anxiety attacks a long time ago, no one in the universe needs their hair to be brushed this many times in a day, and _come on_, dude, we have the whole apartment to ourselves! There are so many other cool things we could be doing!"

"And here I thought you'd be honored." James faked a heavy sigh. "No one else in the world has the privilege of helping James Diamond maintain his hair like you get to."

"I'd rather pull pranks on Mr. Bitters or do stunts on Swirly than sit here and uselessly brush through your stupid hair all day." The Latino muttered sourly.

"Carlos, would you stop being such a prick?" He snapped, whirling his head around to meet the other's eyes with a glare. "I haven't bothered you to do this in months and all I'm asking now is that you at least give me 15 minutes! At least 15 and then you can go off and do whatever you want! Okay?"

The other gave a huff before murmuring, "Fine."

James turned back around, situating himself back in between Carlos' opened legs as he pretended to be immersed in the game show on television, guilt quickly seeping into him as the other resumed in tending to re-grooming him. He hadn't meant to shout at Carlos like that, but he couldn't help it. Not when he'd called his hair "useless" and "stupid".

Well, if he had to be honest, it wasn't entirely about the name-calling. He'd been more upset that Carlos seemed to have an attitude towards this as if it were a chore. If anything he didn't want him to see it like that. This was so much more than a "chore". James didn't ask Carlos to do this because he wanted to keep his hair free of tangles and knots. No. James asked Carlos to do this because he liked it, he liked the comforting feeling it gave him to know that the Latino was right behind him, soothingly petting his head with the gentle strokes of his finest hairbrush.

Really, asking Carlos to groom him was practically an excuse. An excuse to get the other boy to sit calmly with him in a comfortable silence, to get him to notice him… because, while he was brushing his hair, it was the only time in the world his dark brown eyes were only focused on his being. Not on instructions for the newest video game he bought from the store. Not on some cute puppy he noticed walking down the street. Not on some hot girl he spotted from across the pool.

No. There was just him. Just James.

He only wished that Carlos would look at him more often.

"I'm sorry." James found himself apologizing in a soft voice, though he didn't know if the apology was coming from the guilt of harboring these foolish feelings for his best-friend or for yelling at him earlier. It could be both.

"It's okay." He heard his friend reply casually as the brush came around to pull back the bangs on his forehead. "I deserved it. I mean, you were right, you haven't asked me for months and you're pleading for only a few minutes of my time, yet I start acting like a baby about it. I wasn't being fair."

There was a brief pause before James spoke again. "Uhm, do you… do you really hate brushing my hair?"

"Dude, its fine. I'll do this whenever you ask, as long as it's not all day. Don't worry."

"I-I don't want you doing something you don't like just because I _ask_- "

"James- "

"If you really hate it just tell me. You've already called my hair stupid billions of times anyway. I get it. I won't ask you to brush it anymore."

"James!" Carlos pulled the hairbrush away. The taller boy immediately tensed up, eyes shutting close in second instinct. Oh, now he'd gone and done it. He shouldn't have let himself run his big mouth. He should've accepted the apology. Now Carlos was just going to spill the truth, scream out everything he hated about him, and he'll never have the other boy so kindly brush him ever again.

"I like you hair."

Carlos' small voice had barely registered in his ears. His eyes reopened as he let out a shallow breath, replaying the faded words in his mind. Had he really heard that right?

As if he'd read his very thoughts, Carlos repeated himself again. "I really do like your hair, James, it's pretty, soft, and nice. I don't mind brushing it, even if I do complain sometimes, because… because I like touching pretty, soft, and nice things."

It was then that James realized the newfound pressure at the back of their head, gasping in recognition of the sensation of fingernails lightly dragging across his scalp all the way down to his neck.

Normally, James would not allow it. He wouldn't because, honestly, he _hated_ it when people would put their hands in his hair. They'd mess up his meticulous styling that he'd taken all morning to do, making it stick up wildly on ends or entirely disheveled, and he'd get insanely angry at having to saunter back into the bathroom for another half-hour or so to re-style it. That's why he pushed people off when they got too near, or smacked their hands away with a displeasured expression.

But right now, _god_. Right now he just wanted Carlos combing through his locks forever because his touch felt ridiculously wonderful.

"Dude, seriously, what do you do to your hair? No one else I've ever met has ever had it this smooth and even. No one."

"I-I just use these s-special shampoos and stuff…" James probably would've been more precise and ecstatic to talk about it if he wasn't so distracted by Carlos' steady petting. He was rather quickly losing himself in it, eyelids fluttering shut as he let out a quiet sigh, subconsciously leaning into to the raven-haired boy's caress.

"You should lend me some."

"Mhhmmm." His reply came lazily, the feeling of the other flattening down his bangs with his index finger causing him to smile as he stretched out his legs contentedly along the cool flooring.

He wondered why he didn't think of allowing Carlos to run his fingers through his hair sooner. It provided him with just the attention he craved for all these years, all these times. And it was so much better than using a hairbrush—well, not better for neatness per say but, certainly, on a personal level.

He heard Carlos beginning to hum then, a peaceful tune as he drummed his fingers in an almost teasing manner in between full strokes of his hands. He was instantly reminded through a flashback in one of the couple of times he and Carlos had gone to the park. More than once the Latino found a sweet little puppy he couldn't take his eyes off, asking the owner if he could just take a moment to hold him or her. He'd cuddle the pup in his arms adorably, James watching as he hummed contently, drawing his hands through the fur in the same manner, cooing every now and then that he or she was "so cute".

And that was enough to get James thinking. Did Carlos think he was cute?

His heart began thumping fiercely at the thought, the brunet forced to bite harshly at his bottom lip to keep himself from opening his mouth and asking.

Then Carlos did something James had been convinced he'd never be a fan of.

It was just a simple tug, a light pulling of a short strand of hair at the back of his head, yet it had caused a surge of arousal to be swept entirely throughout his body evicting a small moan to slip from his mouth before he could stop it. He'd frozen afterwards, mentally scolding himself for doing that because now Carlos was going to think he was weird—

But all thoughts stopped then when he'd done it again.

It was like an electric shock, frying his nerves, pulling him in, and his hands curled tightly at his thighs as he swallowed a gasp. He tried to focus on the Latino's gentle petting afterwards, distracting his mind away from the intense feeling he got when Carlos did that, but it was proving difficult. He couldn't help wondering what would happen if the other pulled _harder_.

Then he did.

James had let out a loud groan, face flushing as he felt the veins underneath his skin ignite with fire, trembling under the raven-haired teen's hold.

"Do you like it when I do that, Jamie?"

At the moment he didn't care what that could mean, Carlos only using the nickname in silly instances to make fun of him, but right now he wasn't in the mood to analyze or speculate. He simply went along with impulses, letting out a pleading high-pitched whine in hopes that the other boy would understand.

He seemed to because now he was feeding him nothing less than pleasure. His locks were combed and patted; all the while Carlos offered delicious hair pulls in between that made his toes curl. Whimpers and moans became more consistent, the taller boy unable to hide his broken state at what this situation was doing to him, at what _Carlos_ was doing to him. He felt himself hardening the more this prolonged, stimulation at an all-time high, and the fact that Carlos' hands had dropped to rubbing his shoulders and along his collarbone every once in a while was _definitely_ not helping.

Those hands were damn not near low enough though, and he suddenly felt neglected, body itching for those fingertips to slide under his shirt or, better yet, to be wrapped around his pulsating cock in his jeans.

"Carlos," The brunet panted, the image becoming too painful of an imagination. He needed Carlos to touch him lower, the desperation of it all becoming crazy unbearable. He had to understand, he _needed_ it.

Yet the shorter boy didn't seem to get it, massaging his shoulders with strong thumbs, brushing lightly against the sensitive skin of his neck without a word, causing a strong shiver to travel down the length of his spine. He'd practically screamed the other boy's name then, unable to make sense of why the slightest touches were setting him entirely off.

That's when, without warning, Carlos slid forward, his hands coming to rest at his hips and squeezing tight. With his lower half completely being ignored up until now it became too much, his body subjecting to convulsions as he moaned in high volume and, _fuck_, was he really going to come without any direct contact?

Apparently. It only took one soft squeeze to finish him, Carlos' name spilling past his lips in a broken whisper as he felt his seed spurt out to coat his boxers, hips jerking spastically.

He was kissed. It'd come seemingly out of the blue because he hadn't expected it, at all. Carlos had just taken a second to tilt his head back in the midst of his sensual high and seal their lips. That's exactly how it'd happened, though James couldn't deny that he didn't like it. He did.

He didn't mind the fact that he was sweaty with disheveled hair, clothes entirely rumpled, sticky and wet in his black jeans. He thought the moment was perfect. He and Carlos shared probably the softest, sweetest kiss he'd ever experienced, lips moving slow against one another's as they took gracious time in savoring the feeling.

When the Latino pulled back he felt his heart-race, suddenly doubting in everything that'd just happened. He was overcome with a new sense of fear, a voice inside his head instantly snapping at him and saying that "just because Carlos did all that doesn't mean he likes you, he could be making fun of you". Yet he forced his eyes open because he had to know.

Carlos was smiling down at him, a kind, doting smile with full-lips stretched wide from cheek to cheek. And there was a sense of fondness in his eyes, a type that could not be masked, even if he'd wanted to. Not that he was trying. No, he'd laid out all the warmth and caring he had for James out in plain sight, so clearly visible in those café colored eyes, for him to see.

He felt the other caress his flushed cheek then, tan finger lightly grazing over the heated flesh. "You're adorable," Carlos had whispered, never once breaking their locked eye contact.

His breath hitched.

The creaking of the front door coming open was enough to set them both flying apart. Distance renewed itself between them as James sat back up, crossing his legs as he pretended to be watching the television, Carlos behind him scrambling for the hairbrush as he straightened out his clothes.

"Guys, we're back!" Logan announced as he came in through the front door. "Had to cut the driving lesson short because _somebody_ was going wild in the parking lot and couldn't seem to steer straight—"

"Well, maybe if you had stopped _yelling_ at me, I could've gotten it right!" An aggravated Kendall came from behind him, tossing the keys to the counter as he muttered, "You're such a bossy person, Logan. Stop telling me what to do."

"I have to tell you what to do because that's my job as your teacher! If I don't you'll crash and hurt yourself and I don't know what I'd do with my—what are you guys doing?"

Kendall followed the gaze of his friend to observe James and Carlos in the living room. They were sitting together watching television as they usually did, except the difference was in the fact that they weren't sitting side-by-side as they normally did. James was on the floor in between Carlos' legs and neither Kendall nor Logan could figure out why in the world James would opt to sit on the floor, especially when he constantly complained about lint and dirt getting in his clothes.

"I was brushing James' hair." Carlos admitted in a casual manner, as if it wasn't weird for two guys to be doing that at all, holding up the hairbrush for evidence.

"You were what?" Logan and Kendall had both spoken in disbelief, convinced their hearing was broken.

James simply flashed them a grin. "Yep. You two should try it on each other sometime. It's fun."


End file.
